


California Gold

by WichitaRed



Category: Alias Smith and Jones
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-20
Updated: 2014-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-13 04:55:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1213450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WichitaRed/pseuds/WichitaRed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As always Heyes is working up new, lucrative, honest ways to make money and with a bit of convincing he has Kid agreeing to his plan. Because Heyes has assured him it will be like plucking money from a tree. But when are Heyes' plans ever that easy. This is my first amnesty time-line story. Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	California Gold

California Gold by Wichita Red

Working on his fourth cup of coffee, Heyes watched Kid demolish the stack of pancakes in front of him and methodically move on to the omelet and, slab of ham with the same determination. Halfway through a side order of biscuits and gravy, he stopped chewing long enough to say, “So what’s the plan you want to tell me?”

“Plan?” Heyes said motioning to the waitress for more coffee. 

“Joshua this is probably the best mood you’re gonna catch me in today. So if you’re wanting to silver-tongue me to one of your schemes, I’d say you best start now.” 

Heyes smiled at the pretty serving girl as she filled his cup and took away the empty plates. “Our last jobs, lined our pockets pretty nicely but I’ve got a plan that is sure to increase our bankroll even more.”

Kid took another bite of ham and washed down with orange juice, his blue eyes boring into his partner.

“Now don’t look at me like that. This plan is foolpr--.”

“If you say that word, I’m gonna say no just out of principal.”

Heyes swallowed once, his smile increasing, “Why Thaddeus you sound like you don’t trust my ideas.”

“If we’re going by your recent track record,” He took another bite, “I don’t.”

Folding up the newspaper, he had been reading, Heyes tapped it against his crossed leg, “Well, I’ll admit we’ve had some unusual outcomes but I’m still trying to get a handle on this whole honest living.”

Kid shook his head.

“Well I am.”

“What’s your plan?”

“I tell you we’ll make more money than a forty-niner.”

“I’m not digging in the dirt. I’ve told you I’m done with mining.”

“Me too. Me too.” Heyes nodded laying the on the table and spinning it, so Kid could see the section he had folded down to. “But, I’m talking about a different kind of gold.”

Leaning forward Kid read the advertisement. “Oranges?”

“See, the way I’ve figured is this, a crate of oranges cost around six bits and they hold thirty oranges that makes each orange worth; three cents so we buy twenty crates. That’ll run us just under twenty dollars. We take them to Lincoln by train, load ‘em on a wagon, and haul ‘em up to Deadwood. From what I’ve read, I am positive we can sell the oranges for two or three dollars each to those fruit- starved, gold covered miners.” He leaned across the table. “Think Thaddeus, that’s twenty-dollars for oranges, fifty on train fare, probably four-hundred to gear us out good in Nebraska. That’s four-hundred and seventy we stand to pocket at least a thousand.”

Kid picked up his glass of juice, looked at it thoughtfully, and then took a drink. “Oranges?”

“Yeah, talk about plucking money from trees.”

“What do you know about oranges?”

“Not much more than you. Only that the harvest is happening all around us and we rarely see them east of the Rockies.”

“Won’t they go bad before we get to the Dakotas?”

“No.” Heyes sat back, and took a drink from his cup. “I talked to a grower, and he said-, they keep for a long time. The rind starts getting a bit hard but the fruit is still good. The trick is to keep them out of the sun and cool.”

“It’s halfway through October, keeping them cool won’t be a difficulty.” Kid finished the glass and set it down. “You really wanna head for Dakota Territory this late in the year?”

“Yeah, I do. If we push, we’ll be there before the snow fall is thick.”

“How much you figure, again?”

“At least thousand and the only real labor is the loading of the crates on the train and, then again on the buckboard. Come on, Thaddeus, you always say you like work that is easy on the back. This will be.”

Kid looked again at his empty glass and a cataclysmically large smile spread across his face. “You know what Heyes? I’ve heard about mining camps and your right, we could about name our price to them frozen miners. I can already hear you selling them liquid California sunshine.”

Heyes nodded eagerly, “The sweetest gold they’ll ever sink their teeth into.”

* * * * * *

“Heyes, you didn’t figure in the fee for freighting them to the train station in your plan.”

“I made up for that in the discount we got by filling the crates ourselves.”

“Uh huh,” Kid grunted, lugging a crate of oranges with a definite limp in his step, “but, I’m beginning to doubt, how easy this is supposed to be and wondering what else you didn’t figure in.”

“Just this fee and besides, you should still be feeling damn lucky you didn’t shoot yourself in the leg as hard as you hit the ground.”

Kid frowned, “Well, you should see the size of the bruise running down my thigh.”

“Ah quit bellyaching Thaddeus. You’ve got an easy train ride ahead of you.” Heyes said brightly, dragging the last crate free of the wagon. “Now, pay the man.” He twitched his head back toward the teamster, who was spitting chaw from the high seat of his freight wagon. 

After sliding his crate into their pile, Heyes stepped back and smiled at the twenty boxes. His eyes drifted to his cousin, who was walking stiff as a wooden-legged veteran, and his smile grew until his dimples deeply sliced into his cheeks. 

Kid glared back balefully, hitching up to sit on the dock. “Go get the tickets.”

“Sure.” Heyes took a few steps toward the depot, turned back, “You can’t blame that on my plan.” He pointed toward Kid’s right leg, “Who’d of thought, you were too clumsy to stay on a ladder?”

“Tickets!” Kid snarled, wondering if just shooting his cousin, if he only gave him a flesh wound, would be totally wrong. 

Seeing this evil thought reflected in Kid’s expression, Heyes hurried off but his laughter still trailed after him. When he returned, he found Curry lounging against the crates enjoying an orange, “Feeling better?”

“No. I wanna get these loaded, climb aboard, and sleep ‘till dinner. Then find a poker game, hopefully.”

“That does sound good. But. . . ” Heyes glanced quickly about before leaning in close to his cousin,” Kid, it’s this way. I bought one coach and one freightage ticket.”

“What!?!”

“I decided we shouldn’t leave our gold unguarded.”

The corners of Kid’s mouth tugged drastically down. “Heads!”

Heyes flipped a coin into the air. Curry snagged it, slapped it down, and moved his hand, “Why do I even bother?”

“Ah, it ain’t that bad Kid.” Heyes handed him a bag of sandwiches while placing three full canteens next to their gear and bedrolls. “You’ll have plenty of peace and quiet. You always go on about how I won’t let you sleep.”

 

* * * * * *

 

When the boxcar door rolled open, it revealed Kid Curry looking fully rested although he also appeared in dire need of a bath and shave. 

From the loading dock, Heyes passed him a smile of relief, so sincere, it made Kid wonder what was up. Heyes moved forward quickly, before Kid could get out of the car to escape the sweet scent of oranges drifting out to waft across the dusty Nebraska train depot. “Thaddeus toss me one of those.” Heyes said pointing to the orange crates. “I’m starving.”

Kid did and then carefully slid down from the car. 

“How’s the leg?”

“I think a hot soak will have it fixed up the rest of the way.”

Heyes turned away, making short work of the orange. However, before he had turned, Kid saw the look that stole across his cousin’s face and recognized it as bad news. 

Sighing, he pulled their saddlebags, bedrolls, and canteens out, dropping them on the loading dock. Heyes snagged a canteen, spun the cap off, and took a long, long drink. 

“Alright, Joshua . . . what is it you don’t want to tell me?”

Wiping his mouth across on his shirtsleeve, Heyes mumbled, “I got robbed.”

“What was that?”

“The passengers, me included, were robbed at gunpoint.”

“You were carrying the majority of our stake.”

“I know Thaddeus. You don’t have to remind me.”

“You got robbed!”

“Yes.”

“You!?!”

“What did you want me to do say,--- I’m Hannibal Heyes, you can’t rob me!?” 

“Shhh.” Kid looked furtively around and, not seeing anyone interested in them, he steered his partner out of the way of the moving herd of passengers. “So what do we do?”

“We sell oranges.”

Kid nodded, giving his cousin a full smile and slapping him on the back, “Going to be easy is what you said.”

“This was unforeseen.”

“Uh huh.”

“Oh, will you buy me something else to eat? ‘ Cause I don’t think that orange is fixing to set too well on my empty stomach.”

Kid began laughing, “Will do, Joshua. You just see to unloading and start selling.”

 

* * * * * *

 

Riding out of Lincoln with a four mule-team train tied to his horse, Heyes took the lead. After about thirty minutes, he turned in his saddle, “You do realize I can hear you grumbling?”

“Figured you could, being hard of hearing has never been one of you faults”, said Kid.

“So it took selling ten crates to gear us out. We’ve still got nearly three-hundred oranges. Besides, I’m still positive they are worth double, if not triple the value, we just sold at. As an added bonus, we can travel quicker with the mules than driving a freight wagon.”

“If you say so, Heyes, if you say so.”

“I do.” Heyes grunted, more to himself than to his cousin; still, he smiled and though, ‘Kid will see. We are going to be rolling in green or considering where we’re going I should say gold.’

 

* * * * * *

 

The sun blazed down unusually warm for November; gnats swarming the countryside like low hanging cloudbanks, crawling, and covering Kid, Heyes, and their animals like a second skin. “I can’t recall ever seeing them like this.” Heyes said swiping the gnats away. 

“Yeah, makes me wish I was a smoker so they’d leave me alone,” Kid grouched, “and, it’s hot. I’ve sweated clear through and through. I can’t believe how hot it is,” he said, pulling his hat to wipe sweat and gnats from his face. 

Heyes nodded, “Let’s take a break up in the shade of those trees.” 

Under the golden leaved cottonwoods, Kid stepped down and pulled some jerky from his saddlebag. Sniffing he said, “Gotta say that orange smell is really wearing on me.”

Heyes smiled humbly, “Only for a bit longer, Kid.” He arched his back popping creaks from it. “OW!”

“Getting old, Heyes?”

“No!” He twisted to look at his hip. “Something stung me.” 

One of the mules squealed and bucked, Kid looked to the animal. 

“OW!” Heyes yelped again as his own horse leapt sideways snorting. 

Kid turned in a circle, no longer seeing only gnats, but bees swirling around them, too. Three landed on his arm and he shook them off only to be stung in the neck. The drone of the bees was getting louder. Their mules were snorting, kicking, and bucking. Alarmed, Kid hollered, “Let’s get out of here, Heyes. Them oranges are drawing a whole hive.”

Leaping into their saddles while swatting at bees, they kicked their flinching animals into a run dragging the bucking mules along with them. Charging across the prairie, they left the bees behind only to have one of the flaps on the rear mule’s pannier come free. Oranges began flying from the animal like corn kernels from a hot skillet. 

“Heyes, pull up!” Kid hollered, cursing the mules and bees and oranges. 

Heyes thought he also heard his own name mixed into Kid’s tirade, but felt it would be in his best interest to not respond. Circling round, he swung down, ground-tied his mount, and began gathering the golden harvest from the dry, brown buffalo grass. 

Dismounting, too, Kid, checked the horses and mules, straightening their tack and soothing the upset animals. Hearing something he looked up, “Uh. . . Heyes.”

“What?” Heyes replied, unloading his shirttail full of oranges into the open pannier, while thinking how sick he, too, was of the smell. 

“Heyes.” This time, there was a tightness in Kid’s voice that caught his cousin’s attention. Loking up Heyes saw what was making Kid sound so nervous. Turning about, Heyes swallowed hard, his dark eyes tracking the party of Sioux encircling them.

“What do we do?” Kid whispered. 

“Stay still. Keep your hands, right there on top of that mule’s neck and, Kid, keep smiling.” Heyes answered through his own large smile. 

A man with five eagle feathers in his hair on a white horse moved forward. The others moved in like a pack of wolves around wounded prey. Heyes watched the approaching man, noting the manner in which his beaded fringe swayed and, the feathers fluttered about his head making him appear regal. Yet, his face held a hint of gentle softness and there was merriment about his eyes making Heyes feel somewhat easier. 

The Sioux motioned his horse to stop right beside Heyes, the Indian’s nostrils flaring at the orange’s sugary, citrus scent. He leaned forward, looking into the pannier at the orange balls laying there, his thick black brows arched almost to his hairline. He looked to Heyes. 

Unbelievably, Heyes was able to smile even larger, as he said, “Hello, warm day we’re having isn’t it?”

The Sioux warrior tipped his head and pointed at the oranges.

“Oh.” Heyes plucked one up, offering it to the man. Than taking up another, he began peeling it, spraying sticky droplets of juice all about. 

The Indian’s eyes dropped to the orange in his hand, back to Heyes, and then he stuck a thumb into the rind. He smiled, amused at the way the juice bubbled out. Raising his hand, he sniffed it. 

“Unusual, huh?” Heyes said, pulling the pulpy fruit apart and popping a slice in his mouth. He motioned for the Sioux to do the same. 

The man looked at the orange.

Heyes ate another slice. 

Eyeing Heyes, the Sioux pried out a slice and gingerly took a small bite. He pulled back yipping with pleasure. He stuffed the entire slice in his mouth, tearing others free, making them disappear just as quickly. He waved to his companions, who rode up so close their horses were bumping against Heyes and the mules. 

Never letting his smile falter, Heyes began tossing oranges to the younger braves.

Kid’s clear blue eyes darted from Indian to Indian as the party tore into the oranges. Smiles erupted on their faces and they began speaking quickly to each other. 

Before they finished the fruit in their hands, Heyes untied the mule from the others and, stepping up, handed its lead rein to the first Indian. Smiling, he bowed to the man, and then secured the pannier’s flap closed. 

The Indian looked to Kid, who was still doing an outstanding imitation of a smiling statue, and then back to Heyes. 

“A gift for your people,” Heyes said, feeling bands of sweat roll down his back. 

The younger men began chattering more. Heyes and Kid shared a heartfelt look, of suffocating fear, as the braves became louder and more animated. Just when, the two former outlaws, felt sure their bones would be found right here in the middle of nowhere; the Sioux’s whooped, turned, and rode off within the heavily-laden mule. 

Kid’s head sunk down onto the neck of the mule, he had been holding onto. Heyes bent over, with a huge sigh, and braced himself on his knees. “Thought we were goners, Kid.”

“Me too. Let’s put some distance between them and us and, not camp until we have to.”

“Deal.”

* * * * * *

 

“Coffee’s ready,” Heyes said, squatting beside Kid’s bedroll, to hand him a steaming cup. His cousin threw back his blankets, sending a dusting of snow flying in a sparkling sweep in the early morning sunshine. Sitting up, Kid blearily looked at the fat, falling flakes and back to his cousin. “I told you it wasn’t a good idea to head north, this time of year.”

“We’ll be in Deadwood by the end of the week.”

“Maybe, if this doesn’t turn into a blizzard,” Kid said, sitting up, wrapping his blanket around him, and taking the cup. 

“I already have the stock saddled and ready,” Heyes said, rising and stomping his feet. “I made biscuits.”

Kid nodded accepting, three warm biscuits, eating them in large bites, as Heyes wrapped the rest in oilskin for them to have later on the trail. “You know, Heyes, I like everything about this plan less and less.”

“Come on, Kid. Think of the good time we’re going to have in Deadwood. Imagine our profits from selling these . . . you want one?” He said, offering an orange.

“God, no.” 

Heyes chuckled, and stood up. “Anyway, imagine how much more we will make around the poker tables and the fun we will have with the painted gals. That’ll keep you warm.”

“I’ll try. Right now, all I can think of is selling these damn oranges, getting a bath, a decent meal and sleeping in a real bed.”

“We’ll do all that, Kid. I promise.” Heyes answered kicking snow over the fire. 

 

* * * * * *

 

“Joshua, this is the third day of snow. I’m tired of being wet and I’m tired of being frozen to my saddle. Those clouds look ready to drop another batch, too.” Kid said flatly, glaring at his cousin then back at the mules walking in a steady line behind Heyes’ horse. “Hell, I feel as tired as those mules.”

“I know Kid, cold kind of saps it out of you.” Heyes said leaning from his saddle to look up the muddy, rutted trail they were plugging along. Ahead of them, as well as behind them, was a long line of people, zig zagging their way up to Deadwood. “Thaddeus, why don’t you ride up beside that freight wagon and, see if there is a chance to pass him or, if we should even bother.” 

Kid nodded, chirking to his horse. He pushed ahead, and once alongside the wagon, he let the gelding fall back to its monotonous walk. Studying the straggling, struggling line going up the mountain, Kid sighed heavily and quite audibly. 

The freight driver said, “Well, ride on ahead, son; ain’t any reason, for you to hang back behind this rabble, when you’re mounted on a good horse.”

Kid looked over, “Can’t. We’re hauling freight behind you.” 

The slump shouldered, bearded man shifted about on his seat, to take in the mules with their bulging panniers covered in snow. He nodded to Heyes; who touched a finger to his hat brim in quiet acknowledgement. 

Turning back to Kid, he held out his hand, “Name’s Charlie Utter.” 

Kid shook his gloved hand, “Thaddeus Jones and that’s my partner, Joshua Smith.”

“Good to meet you. This your first trip in?”

Kid nodded, “It was all Joshua’s idea.”

“I see.” Wiping the frost from his beard, Charlie chuckled into his hand. “I been hauling in for the past year. Money to be made here, but you gotta watch yourself. This is one dangerous bitch of a town. I seen plenty of ’em and, she’s the worst.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, if’n we ever make it to town.”

“ Oh, you will. But you won’t believe this pearl of the Dakotas, ‘till you see her.”

“How much longer before we get there?”

Charlie laughed outright, “Well, that depends, on how many wagons break down between here and there. But leading those mules, you boys should be able to weave through some of the mes, probably take two days . . . most likely.” 

“Two days,” Kid said, sounding much younger, than his thirty some years.

Charlie grinned, “If’n you don’t mind me asking. What are you two hauling in to sell?”

Kid looked back at Heyes, who looked half-asleep in his saddle. “Oranges.”

Charlie, looked back now himself, “All three ofthose panniers filled with oranges?”

“Yup. Picked them and hauled them straight from California and, if I never see another in my life, it will be too soon.” 

Charlie laughed, “Been a hard trip.”

“And some.”

“Bet you’re ready for a hot bath and a hot meal.” 

“That I am.”

Charlie looked back again, “Good-looking mules you got.”

“Yeah, Joshua figured we could sell them, too.”

“That so?” Charlie rubbed his chin. “They well- behaved?”

“Are now.” Kid jostled in the saddle, as his horse slipped in the slimy mud. “We’ve worn the crankiness off ’em.”

Charlie pulled a bottle from under his seat, took a swig, and offered it to Kid. 

“Thanks.” Kid took a pull and, put the cork back in the bottle. When he handed it to Charlie, the man shook his head.

“Keep it. Looks like you two could use it more than me.”

“Thanks again.” Kid grinned larger, and took another warming swig.

“Say, Thaddeus, you wouldn’t be of a mind to sell your mules and produce now?”

Kid, looked over sharply, “Really?”

“If’n, you think them mules would tie up to the tail gate and, follow along, well, then I’ll buy the whole lot off you.”

Kid turned in his saddle, to look at his cousin, who was most definitely dozing now. 

“Without them mules, you two could bypass all this. Be in town this afternoon, sleeping in a nice warm bed tonight rather than on the back of your horse.”

“What’s your offer?”

Charlie hitched a leg up on the worn wagon seat allowing him, a long, hard look at the mules, “Those panniers are full of good product?”

“Yes sir.”

“I’d hate to look you up, in a bad mood, when I got to town.”

“I’d hate that too, Charlie.” Kid grinned. “I ain’t told you anything but the truth.”

“How many oranges you figure you have?”

“Two-hundred to two fifteen.”

“Then I’ll give you four-hundred and twenty.”

“You're going to have to come up more than that.”

Charlie smiled, “See you ain’t a greenhorn.”

“I may look young, but this ain’t my first time off the porch,” Kid grinned. 

Taking off his hat, Charlie ran a hand over his sparsely covered dome and dropped the hat back in place saying, “Six hundred.”

Kid, looked down at the mucky ground, his gelding sloshed along then at the snow- covered trees around them, “Make it seven-fifty and you’ve a deal.”

Charlie grimaced, and then smiled, held out his hand, and, they shook. Reaching under his seat, he pulled out a strong box, removed its lock, and handed Kid the greenbacks. 

“I’ll get them jacks tied to your wagon. Good doing business with you Charlie Utter.” Kid tipped his hat. “Look me up when you get in town and I’ll buy you a drink or two.”

Heyes’ head jerked up as Kid drew near. “Who were you talking to?”

“Name of Charlie Utter.” Kid poked his cousin with the whiskey bottle.

“Generous fellow.” Unplugging it, Heyes took a long drink, sighing with contentment as the warmth ran down through him. Handing the bottle back, he was even more surprised when Kid gave him a thick roll of bills in trade. 

“What’s this?”

“Charlie just bought us out of the freighting business.”

Heyes brows dipped dangerously together, but, as he began counting, they rose along with his smile, “Why, Kid, this is--”

“I know.” Kid beamed. “Now, let’s tie these jackasses to his wagon and make time for Deadwood.”

“You realize if he’s willing to pay this much out here, we could make even more in town.”

“Heyes, I would rather double it around a nice, warm poker table.”

Heyes laughed, “You know Kid, there are times, I really appreciate having you as a partner.” 

 

Author’s Note:  
The Black Hills Gold Rush took place in the Dakota Territory in the United States, beginning in 1874 and reached its peak in 1876-77. Deadwood Gulch was discovered in 1875, and in 1876, thousands of gold-seekers flocked to the new town of Deadwood, although it was still within Indian land. 

Because of this historical documentation, I do realize my story is a bit out of time line since the guys were actually going for amnesty about a decade later. But, I could not figure out another gold rush to use other than the Yukon. And, boy howdy, I didn’t feel like writing a frozen Yukon story. So do please, forgive me for my historical inaccuracy. 

Although, I did love being able to slip a real historical character into the tale with Charlie Utter. Hope y’all enjoyed it too. –Wichita Red


End file.
